


Bail's Apartment

by Onehelluvapilot



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars: Wild Space - Karen Miller
Genre: Dinner, Friendship, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hurt/Comfort, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:02:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Onehelluvapilot/pseuds/Onehelluvapilot
Summary: Trapped on Coruscant while some injuries heal, Obi-Wan finally has a break and a chance to rest, few and far between during this war. When Bail Organa invites him to dinner, his only hope is that he doesn't get pulled into another mess like Lanteeb was. In Bail's apartment, however, he finds the perfect place to rest that he never knew he needed.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Bail Organa
Comments: 14
Kudos: 107





	1. Invitation

The last time Anakin had been on leave, he'd asked for permission to find housing outside the temple, citing the special attention he and the other generals received from Padawans in the temple and that it wasn't proper for Knights to be admired and practically fawned over as much as Masters such as Yoda. He argued that it set a dangerous precedent for the Jedi to be seen simply as warriors, valued for their skill in battle rather than their wisdom. The council was so impressed and surprised by his apparent modesty and foresight that they overlooked any ulterior motives he might've had and granted Skywalker permission to stay elsewhere when he was on Coruscant. The same privilege was applied to the other general-knights, including Obi-Wan, which was why he didn't object to the ruling even though he knew the real, less-admirable and distinctly un-Jedi-like reason Anakin requested it. For it was true, he found, that the Temple, in its own way, could be as overwhelming as the front lines if one had been away from it for long. Especially given the ways it had changed since the outbreak of war. Clone commanders and politicians could now regularly be found in the halls, on their way to meetings and briefings with the Council and battle groups, and their presence was disruptive to the previously Jedi-only meditative space. The Temple now felt like the hub of wartime planning, rather than a respite from battle. In addition, Padawans and younglings were now trained more extensively in lightsaber work and defensive Force-manipulation than contemplation or diplomacy, and the Halls of Healing had become more crowded than the living quarters, as few healthy Jedi remained in the Temple for long.

Obi-Wan had never been a patient patient, and now that he was ending up in medbay more often, his restlessness was only increasing. Both he and Vokara Che quickly came to the conclusion that if they tried to keep him there the whole week that his cracked vertebra needed to heal, either he would go crazy sitting in bed or she would in trying to keep him there. Bail inviting him to dinner was a gift from the Force, as was his observance that Obi-Wan seemed more rattled than rested.

"It's the Temple," the Jedi admitted with a deep huff of frustration as his friend took his cloak to hang up. It was more of a relief than it should have been to be able to admit his troubles. Almost everyone else Obi-Wan knew called the building home and would have seen his statement as almost treasonous. "I can't tell whether it's changed or I have or both, but I can't seem to relax there anymore. It used to be the one place in the galaxy where I could rest easily, but it's so busy now, so full of energy, that I can't seem to get to sleep without one of the healers putting me in a trance."

"Why don't you spend the night here, then?" Bail offered, so matter of factly that Obi-Wan looked up at him in surprise.

"N-no, it’s okay," he stuttered, suddenly awkward. "The Temple is my home; I shouldn't even be thinking these things, much less saying them aloud. Besides, I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Obi-Wan, you would be no imposition,” the Senator said gently. “And if the Temple has changed in the ways you say it has, then any unease you feel within it will not represent a mark against either you or the Order, but simply a condemnation of the war. Please, my friend. Take the guest bedroom and spend at least tonight here. If you feel better in the morning, stay for as long as you're on Coruscant. If not, you can return to the Temple, no harm done."

"That… sounds reasonable," Obi-Wan admitted carefully. "I'm not technically prohibited from spending the night away, but I'll have to inform Master Che and anyone else who may wish to see me."

"Use the com unit in the hallway after dinner. For now, leave your troubles about it with your cloak and come help me in the kitchen."

"You're letting me into the kitchen?"

"I figure that if you're staying, you should learn to at least use the reheater."

Obi-Wan managed to not set anything on fire, though he did have to use the Force to catch a falling pot before the sauce spilled everywhere. Bail laughed at him, but it was good-natured, and he found himself smiling genuinely for the first time in too long. They couldn't completely avoid the topic of the war throughout dinner, but did manage to find some happier subjects to talk about. After dessert (a lovely homemade tart that was only a little burnt), Obi-Wan snuck off to the comm unit in the hall. He called the temple, Hall of Healing branch, and was surprised to have Vokara Che actually pick up. He had thought she would be too busy and he could get away with leaving a message.

"Master Che, I just called to inform you that I won't be returning to the Hall tonight, before you started worrying that I’d escaped. I've… found sleeping arrangements elsewhere."

"Very well, Master Kenobi. If I may remind you, even though you’re out of the Hall, your spine is still healing. It would be good to avoid any… strenuous activity.”

“Don’t worry,” Obi-Wan said, using the Force to control the blushing that threatened to rise on his face. “I’m just staying with a friend.”

“Very well. I trust you to know your limits.”

“Well that’s a first.” He did allow a smile, then. “I’ll be reachable by my comlink, if you or anyone else should need me.” Vokara nodded and signed off.

Obi-Wan sighed in relief and returned to the living/dining room. The table was cleared and Bail had moved to the couch, a datapad in hand. “So?” he asked, as if Obi-Wan was a child asking his parents for permission to have a sleepover.

“I can stay. You said you have a guest room?”

“Yeah. It’s through there.” Bail gestured over to a closed door. “Tell me if there’s something I need.”

“Thanks. You’re staying up?”

“Got some work to get done. Have a good night, Obi-Wan.”

“You too, Bail,” he said with a nod, retiring into the bedroom. Given the understated opulence of the rest of the apartment, he wasn’t surprised by the softness of the mattress or the silky sheets. He was surprised by how much he enjoyed it, and he couldn’t muffle the soft moan, very unbecoming of a Jedi, that slipped out as he sank into the bed. Hopefully it was quiet enough that Bail didn’t hear. More tired than he realized, more tired than he should have been after such a quiet day, he was asleep within moments.


	2. Working from Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would you believe that I actually wrote this chapter before quarantine measures went into effect? No? Ah, well.

Bail had left for work already when Obi-Wan woke up, but he left a note inviting the Jedi to hang around the apartment if he wanted. Feeling no particular desire to return to the Temple, Obi-Wan took him up on it. He managed not to burn some breakfast until he was interrupted by the comm unit in the hallway beeping and he dropped the pan he’d been holding in surprise. The war was making him jumpy. Jedi weren’t supposed to be jumpy.

He went to the comm, thinking that he would direct the call to Bail’s office, but was surprised to see Mace’s face on the screen.

“Master Windu, I was expect-”

“Kenobi, your expertise is needed in reviewing Kit Fisto’s attack plan for the western middle rim.”

“Okay, send the plans over.”

“You won’t be returning to the Temple?”

“I would prefer to work remotely today, if that’s alright.”

Mace didn’t look happy about that. “I’ll allow it for today, but in general, I would warn you against spending so much time with a politician. They are not to be trusted.”

“With all due respect, Master Windu, Bail Organa is the most trustworthy ally the Jedi have. He’s a good man and a close friend.”

“I’ll send the plans over. Be careful not to form attachments, Obi-Wan,” Mace said tersely before hanging up. Released from view, the younger man rubbed his eyes. Some Negotiator he was turning out to be, managing to piss off even other Jedi. Sure enough, a droid brought a tall stack of datapads to the apartment within the hour. Obi-Wan settled down on the lush rug in the center of the living room to work. He set them aside to meditate only when his eyes began to ache.


	3. A Meditation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bail returns home, giving him and Obi-Wan a chance to talk.

Obi-Wan was still meditating when Bail returned home. The Jedi felt his friend’s presence and opened his eyes to watch the politician walk over to the bottle of Corellian whiskey sitting on his desk.

“Do you always go straight to the liquor cabinet when you get home, Senator?” Obi-Wan asked. Bail whipped around to face him, the decanter in one hand and a glass in the other.

“I didn’t recall asking for your opinion, Jedi,” he replied testily. “And I wasn’t expecting to be interrogated by a guest in my own home.”

“I can leave,” Obi-Wan said and Bail was about to snap back “Fine! Get out of here,” before he noticed the slight softness in the Jedi’s eyes. He was asking because he was concerned, not to judge.

"No, it's fine, you don't have to go," he said with effort, setting the decanter down in favor of pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand. "I didn't mean to snap; it's just been a long day."

"And I didn't mean to pry," Obi-Wan replied as his own apology. The atmosphere between the two men returned to amiable as Bail silently offered his friend a drink, which was politely declined, before pouring himself a shallow glass and coming to sit down behind him on the rug. The senator leaned back against his friend until the crown of the Obi-Wan’s head rested against the nape of the taller man’s neck. The Jedi stiffened momentarily before forcing himself to relax.

"I do normally have a drink when I get home from work," Bail admitted. "But I don't drink to excess; it's just enough to take the edge off so I can sleep."

"Hmm. Maybe I should try it after all.

"I recall you saying, when you came over for dinner before the mission to Lanteeb, that Jedi don’t drink.”

"I also didn't object when Anakin said he'd have a glass. We aren't prohibited from alcohol, but as it disrupts our connection to the Force, most of us do choose to abstain. Though, that seems to be changing somewhat.”

“Jedi have started drinking? To cope?”

“No, they’re… Meditation isn’t enough sometimes, after battles and long campaigns, so some Jedi have started imbibing in moderation, much in the same way as you seem to, to help themselves relax. My concern for them may be why I reacted to you in the way I did.”

To Bail, that sounded like Obi-Wan trying to assure himself that he wasn’t worried when really he was. He didn’t mention it though and the two of them sat quietly for a minute. 

“Is there something wrong?” Obi-Wan finally asked. “I mean, besides the usual.” The Force told him that his friend was not particularly more upset than the baseline that the war created, but he recognized the physical contact of Bail sitting down against him to be a comfort-seeking action.

"You remember the last time we sat like this?" Bail asked. "When we were kidnapped and held ransom during those negotiations on Scarif?”

“Yes, I remember.” Not that he wanted to; the mission hadn’t exactly been one of his proudest moments. Obi-Wan had been hit with a paralyzing dart as soon as they landed and had been forced to watch as Bail was beaten into unconsciousness. The two of them had been tied up together with a rope wrapped around their chests and arms as they sat back to back. The Jedi had been able to feel Bail’s broken ribs shift with every rough breath he took and his hair had become matted where it leaned against the bleeding spot on the back of the head of the man he was supposed to protect. Although Obi-Wan was not a trained healer, he had picked up some tricks on Lanteeb, and by the time Bail woke up, his ribs were merely bruised and the wound in his head had closed up. "Why?"

"This is going to sound insane, but can you believe that today in the Senate, I missed it?"

"I know Scarif is a beach planet, but I don't remember that trip being a vacation." Obi-Wan had never told Bail how badly he’d been hurt and consequently, the politician had a much sunnier recollection of the “adventure” than the Jedi. 

"No, but there was a kind of elegance to it, wasn't there? Just you and me, against a host of battle droids and double-crossers?” Obi-Wan did smile as he remembered their escape. It had been satisfying, he admitted, to work together with his friend. Organa was no soldier, but he could handle a blaster and communicated seamlessly as they ducked around corners, taking out droids and eventually making it back to their ship before the ransom call even reached Coruscant. 

“Compared to work in the Senate today, I mean,” Bail continued with a huff. “We were debating levies to be placed against six industries in three different systems, and out of more than a hundred points, I couldn’t get more than four people to agree to any one of them! It just seems like the war has brought out the argumentative side in everyone, and less is being resolved than ever when we need it to be more. Everything is so much more complicated."

"Senator, I think complicated is in your job description."

"In both of our job descriptions, recently," Bail corrected, referring of course to the war. "Not to imply that Jedi don't normally deal with complicated situations, but as of late, everything seems to be kicked up to eleven."

Seemingly exhausted just by the reminder, Obi-Wan sighed and leaned more heavily back against Bail. Normally meditation made him feel better, but today, sitting up straight for so long made the healing muscles in his back ache. His friend was warm, and leaning against him felt surprisingly good.

"I'll take that as an admission that your day was less relaxing than you wanted as well," Bail observed.

"Master Windu sent over some data pads. Several generals have asked that I help plan their campaigns," Obi-Wan admitted.

"I thought you were supposed to be on leave." Senator Organa's words were gentle, understanding. It was a tone that he would have interpreted as condescending from any politician except Bail or Padme.

"Leave, it seems, only means rest when I'm in a healing trance. When I'm awake, there's always more work to be done."

"Has it helped, at least, to be away from the Temple? I imagine you're at least a little harder to reach here." He felt Obi-Wan nod, his soft hair moving away from and then returning to the nape of Bail's neck. "Then you're welcome in my apartment whenever you're on Coruscant. I'll add you to the security protocols. Master Kenobi, to be admitted without question any time of day or night."

"Thank you, Bail. That's a very kind offer. I wish I had something to offer in return."

"Your company is more than enough," the Senator replied diplomatically. "If you ever have a longer break, after this blasted war is over, perhaps, you should come to Alderaan. Breha would love to meet you, and I'd like to show you the full hospitality of my house, more than what this apartment can offer."

"I think you forget, my friend, that the Jedi do not hold much with lavishness or luxury. Even a carpet such as this would be considered extravagant." Obi-Wan ran his fingers through the thick rug they sat on. As well as being as soft as a Tauntaun’s hide, it was elegantly dyed in geometric patterns. 

"In that case I will make it a formal request from the House of Alderaan that I am allowed to thank a representative of the Jedi for their service. It would be impolite to decline such an offer, and I know you're nothing if not polite, Mr. Negotiator."

"Indeed it would, Senator Organa," he agreed, sounding almost joyful at the prospect of good-natured manipulation of Jedi protocol. If they were standing face to face rather than sitting back to back, the polititian guessed that he would be able to see the subtle smile hidden behind Obi-Wan's beard. "In truth, Bail, I would love to visit your home and meet your wife. They both sound lovely."

"They are," Bail said wistfully, without pretention but instead with longing in his voice. Obi-Wan wondered what it would be like to love like that, so wholly and unashamed, and quickly shut down the little voice in the back of his head that says he already knew.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to everyone who has commented already, and I would love to hear what you think of the last chapter.


End file.
